


Drawn To You

by rosy_cheekx



Series: Post-Apocalypse AU [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Happy Ending, I think I have an AU now, M/M, Married Couple, Prompt Fill, Science Fair, Touch-Starved, Touching, Tumblr Prompt, adhd or asd coded, and specific interests, but the idea of hyperfixations as a child, jon is maybe, martin as a guidance counselor, up to interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosy_cheekx/pseuds/rosy_cheekx
Summary: Everyone assumed Martin was the touchy one in their relationship. Martin was happy to let his coworkers and friends think such a thing; Jon did have a reputation to uphold after all, Strict and Cynical and Decorous.  And no mistake, Martin was physically affectionate. But Jon? Jon was like a fridge magnet.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Post-Apocalypse AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090457
Comments: 47
Kudos: 402





	1. Drawn To You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! this was a lot of fun and based on the prompt; "holding hands when they think the other wont notice" as suggested via my tumblr (balanced_to_a_tea). Almost all of these are examples of science fair projects I did as a kid, or have used in demos when I work with children. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! :)

Everyone assumed Martin was the touchy one in their relationship.

Martin was happy to let his coworkers and friends think such a thing; Jon did have a reputation to uphold after all, Strict and Cynical and Decorous. And no mistake, Martin was physically affectionate. But Jon? Jon was like a fridge magnet. Very early in their relationship, Jon had established a firm precedent that unless there wasn’t a reason why Jon _shouldn’t_ be touching Martin, he would find some way to attach himself. It wasn’t always over-the-top, little things like linking pinkies while they walked in the grocery, knees firmly pressed together while the pair watched a movie, moving Martin’s hand casually with his own to Jon’s scalp while they read so he could entwine his fingers in the other man’s hair or absentmindedly brush through it. _He truly is a cat_ , Martin thinks in times like those, in the same way Her Regency (Reggie, as Martin calls her when Jon isn’t around, it’s just such a _mouthful_ ) nudges her head under their hands shamelessly, declaring she was allowed to be pet now.

Jon used to feel awkward about this, blushing as he asked Martin to hold his hand or grabbed to Martin’s elbow “so I don’t lose you in the crowd” _(“what crowd?” had been Martin’s response in the Sainsbury, but wrapped a hand around the smaller one, blushing slightly and grinning in return_ ) but now it was just as natural as breathing. More natural even, because sometimes Martin was pretty sure Jon didn’t even realize he was doing it. Jon would be pressed into Martin’s side, eyes concentrating on the telly or a book or grading papers, and would tilt over in surprise when Martin got up to use the toilet or grab a snack, catching himself before he fell completely onto the couch cushion. He would hide his disgruntled, clearly caught-off-guard face under a mask of a neutral scowl and scooch even closer after Martin had returned, as if guaranteeing he couldn’t get up this time. Out of curiosity, Martin had once sat on the opposite end of the couch to see how Jon would respond, and swallowed a chuckle when Jon waited approximately thirty seconds before sliding across the couch to show him something he had found on his phone (which hadn’t even been out before) and resting his head on Martin’s lap to show him. _Martin couldn’t lie, it felt_ good _to know he was wanted in such an all-encompassing way, a continual reminder that The Lonely had no hold on him anymore._

Today was one of those days, unfortunately, where Jon couldn’t think of a single reason he was allowed to be touching his husband right now. They were at Martin’s primary school, where he served as beloved guidance counselor, attending what seemed to be an excuse for children to make rudimentary explosives, gross concoctions of foods and non-food items, and the elusive potato-clock. School science fairs were not Martin’s forte, but he had been “voluntold” by the committee head to be one of the judges, apparently it was a rite of passage for the first-year faculty members. And first-year he was, so here he was: clipboard in hand, lanyard around his neck, asking P1s and P2s about their charts of this month’s weather cycles, P4s about their daisies in colored water why they had yielded vaguely blue and red petals, and cross-examining P6s about the (twelfth? Fifteenth? He’d lost count) baking-soda volcano he’d seen today. Marking a note on his form about Lucy Sketter’s solar system model, “ _way too good, done by parent?”_ he glanced up to realize Jon was nowhere in sight. This wasn’t terribly uncommon, Jon wasn’t overly social in situations like these and was apt to find a quiet corner to recuperate. Martin sent off a quick text ( _just checking in. you okay?)_ before he made his way to the next tri-fold, a very colorful, glitter coated board displaying a model of a skeleton, complete with tiny, hand-written labels of bones. This one was rather well-done, and Martin respected the disparity between the well-educated topic and the use of glitter to display said knowledge.

It was another twenty minutes before he found Jon again, and it was rather by accident. Beau Clifton, a scrawny fourth year, was next on Martin’s list of appraisals. As he approached Beau’s trifold, he saw the young boy talking animatedly to what appeared to be a rapt Jonathan Sims. Martin got closer, sidling next to the crouched Jon, who was examining Beau’s crystallized pipe cleaners with academic intensity through his glasses, as Beau showed off the water and borax solution he had used to achieve the affect, the term “hyper-saturated solution” sliding off his tongue clumsily in the way his S’s were clipped. Jon was nodding, asking him occasional questions about the procedure or what he had learned, still bent in a position Martin knew must be killing his knees.

Martin listened quietly, marking off the appropriate notes on his clipboard, before Beau finally noticed him with a shy start. “Uh-hi, Mr. Blackwood!” The young boy clasped his hands together nervously, and at the sound of his husband’s name, Jon craned his head reflexively to see Martin, whose eyes were focused on Beau but his soft grin exclusively for Jonathan Sims.

Jon stood, wincing his knees popped, and stepped back carefully, allowing Martin to hear much of the same spiel he had already heard from when he had been observing Jon. Martin shook his head and held out his hands invitingly. “Don’t let me stop you Beau! I saw you were educating this man here, and that’s what these fairs are all about. Do go on.”

Jon took his place again, standing this time, and Beau nodded hesitantly. “So there are a bunch of different kinds of crystals. These ones,” he points to the snowflake still in Jon’s hands, “are called cubic, which means they look like boxes. But there’s also hexagonal, which six sides, trigonal, which have three sides, and monoclinic, which are also like boxes but more…” he searched for a word, finding none, “weird.”

Martin couldn’t pull the grin from his face as he watched his husband listening to Beau. He could hear the way Jon asked his questions, things about the crystals and solution and other options, that he was trying to treat this small spectacled child like a peer. Pressing the end of his clipboard against his side with his right hand, Martin slipped his left into Jon’s. He didn’t react except to squeeze the hand that enfolded his own, and they listened for a few more minutes until Beau had seemingly run out of things to say on the topic. Martin nodded and read over his prior notes. “Well, Beau, you seem to be the most knowledgeable about your topic, more than anyone else I’ve seen.” He struggled for a moment, not wanting to pull his hand away from Jon’s, but managed to extract a large yellow sticker from a sheet on his clipboard. “Regardless of what the judges say, you win an award in my book.” He pressed the sticker, on which was a pink cartoon brain and a bunch of random science equipment, which advertised “BRAINIAC!” in large blue letters. Beau grinned wildly, flashing a mouthful of crooked teeth, and pressed it onto his little blue sweater vest proudly. _Of course_ , Martin realized. _Of course Jon would find solace in a boy with too many questions and who decided a sweater-vest was the best way to dress up for his science fair on a Saturday afternoon._

Martin nudged Jon with his shoulder as they walked away, spurred by the head teacher’s announcement for judges to submit their evaluatory forms. “Cute kid, huh?”

“Hm? Ah-yes, he seemed very knowledgeable. Made me want to find a documentary on crystallization; he recommended a few.”

“Well, its always nice to see Mr. Eye-Spy-Absolutely-Everything learn a few things.” Martin squeezed his hand thrice, the little _i-love-you_ game they played with each other signaling he was joking. Three pumps was “I love you,” four was “I love you too.” Then came two: “how much?” and then Martin’s favorite, the singular squeeze that was meant to be very firm and tight, professing just _how_ much one loved the other.

This time, instead of the four pumps, Jon jumped and looked down at their entwined hands in disbelief. Martin raised his eyebrow. “You alright?”

“How-how long have we been holding hands?”

Martin raised an eyebrow before chuffing out a bark of laughter. “Did you really not notice?” At Jon’s weary, slightly embarrassed duck of his head, Martin wiggled their entwined hands slightly. “You did _this_ ,” squeezed the darker hand in his own, “so I thought you realized!” He valiantly tried to suppress his chuckles before pulling Jon in for a quick peck on the temple, _he was at work after all_ , and pulled his hand away so he could sort the forms. “Don’t worry, it’s cute how invested you were in Beau. He’s a sweet kid, got some issues but he’s working really hard.”

After sorting the evaluations into a neat pile and setting them in wire basket to be examined, Jon’s hand shot out and grabbed Martin’s again with both of his. Martin raised an eyebrow. “I-I didn’t answer,” Jon fumbles, before squeezing four times.

No matter how many times they did that little ritual, Martin always blushed. Today was no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 features art made by the amazing Doodlelupin on tumblr and AO3!


	2. Supplemental: Art!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attached is some art done by the amazing @doodlelupin on tumblr and AO3! Check them out! 
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/doodlelupin/640586109739483136  
> Link to the pic on tumblr ^^


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